I had a couple classmates that pretended to be vampires back in elementary and middle school. They’d pretend their Koolaid was blood, complain about the sunlight, and bite their friends a lot. Not enough to draw blood, though. I haven’t kept up with most of them, but one guy is a teacher now. He seems pretty normal.
I dressed like a cowboy for awhile as a preteen. I try not to think about it too much. Though I still have a hat tucked away in my closet. Just in case.
If you lived south of the Mason Dixon no one would have noticed. It’s so ubiquitous people forget how ridiculous it is: men who take themselves very seriously attending the office in the same outfit they wore to go trick-or-treating when they were six. I don’t mean it as any kind of condemnation. I love the ridiculous, delight in the passion of people grooving in their niche, and absurdity aside western wear can be a good look. But I feel the same way about all kinds of theatrical clothes, while the stetson crowd tends to ridicule the other.
You say that. But I was south of the Mason Dixon line and I definitely stood out. Even at some country music concerts. Because I was dressing as if I was the one on-stage at any given concert. I saved and eventually had my white Stetson, quite the rotation of Garth Brooks-style (sometimes literally!) Western shirts, Wrangler jeans, boots, belt buckles, the whole nine yards.
Your average concert-goer was in a t-shirt (IF THAT) and a ball cap with a fishing hook on it.
To say nothing of dressing like that in other, still-less appropriate, non-concert settings.
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